


My King

by suchfreshcabbage



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Russingon, porn without much plot lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchfreshcabbage/pseuds/suchfreshcabbage





	My King

Maedhros had arrived in Dor-Lomin earlier that week to discuss military plans with Fingon. The final battle, the _Union of Maedhros_ , he called it, a plan to finally end the reign of Morgoth and establish widespread peace and safety across Beleriand. The operation, however, would take endless deliberation and coordination. Fingon was to handle the western flank and provide a hefty portion of the total Noldorian military forces, whereas Maedhros was to take care of the east.

He, along with Fingon and several elven captains, sat around a large wooden table adorned with goblets full to the brim with wine and plates overflowing with fine white bread.

Maedhros grinned. “The invincibility of Morgoth had crumpled under the sway of Luthien, and the inevitability of his destruction has fallen upon our feet, ripe for the taking. I am certain that under the strength of this alliance, light shall rise again.” He took a sip of the wine in front of him.

“But what of the lackings?” one of Fingon’s captains questioned. “This alliance has been shunned by both the forces of Doriath and Nargothrond. Is that not a considerable weakness?”

“It is a loss, most certainly,” Maedhros retorted, “but one that can be compensated by the additional forces brought in by my negotiations and military partnership with the men of the east. I have found them to be quite formidable and adequate and believe their presence will more than suffice as a replacement for those who refuse to participate in Morgoth’s downfall.”

Fingon’s captain silenced himself, then continued. “If you put your faith in these men, I shall trust your judgement.” He broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in a dish of olive oil, and began to eat.

“I believe, perhaps, I can convince the men of Hithlum to join our cause as well!” Fingon said. “The edain despise Morgoth with as much passion as the eldar do, and I am sure they would gladly partake in any effort towards soothing this war-torn world.”

“Fantastic!” Maedhros clapped his hands together. “A splendid and most welcome addition, they will be. How ever-bright, you are, _High King Fingon_ ,” Maedhros said, flashing a smile towards Fingon, and letting his stare sink deep into his eyes.

Fingon blushed slightly. He wasn’t used to being called King, and less so _High_ King. It was a title of high honor, a indicator of a hierarchal dynamic he rarely considered when it came to him and Maedhros. He felt so small in his presence, yet at the same time, emboldened. To see Maedhros look at him that way, to see him smile that way, Fingon could barely stand it.

“I believe that draws this meeting to a close, for tonight,” Fingon announced. The elven captains rose from their chairs and began to leave the room, Maedhros walking along with them. “Stop!” He said, louder than he intended, and the group of elves turned to look at him. “Mae- I- _Lord_ Maedhros, you, you can stay. I am not yet done with you. The rest of you can depart.”

He remained seated, legs crossed together tightly, concealing any hint of arousal he felt. That _stare_. It sent flashes through his mind, memories of valinorian rendezvous, the sweet smell of love before daybreak, the warm feeling of two bodies pressed together, their motions synchronous.

Maedhros paced his way back to Fingon and lowered himself to one knee in front of him. “My King?” he asked, earnestly. “What is it that you require my presence for?”

Fingon extended his hand, reaching out to cup Maedhros’s chin, and raised it slightly as to make eye contact. “I think you know why I want you here.” His hand migrated from Maedhros’s chin to his hair, and he began to stroke his fingers through his dark red locks. “I believe you have the same matter on your mind as I do, and it is a matter I yearn to resolve.”

Maedhros smiled knowingly. “I shall do anything my _King_ wishes of me.” He reached forward under Fingon’s tunic and began to undo the lacing of his breeches. Fingon squirmed slightly in his seat, eager to feel Maedhros’s touch, as he felt himself growing harder in anticipation. At last, Maedhros reached his cock, and began to stroke it. Fingon moaned almost immediately, a sound which Maedhros responded to by flashing another knowing smile towards Fingon.

“ _Oh,”_ Fingon moaned. “ _More,_ ” He uttered, half as a command half as a desperate plea.

“I only have one hand, my K-“

“Use your mouth then, Maitimo,” Fingon urged him. “Please.” There was a desperation, an urgency in his voice.

Maedhros grinned again. “As you wish.” He moved himself closer to Fingon and kneeled between his spread legs. Slowly, he lowered his mouth over Fingon’s cock, now fully erect. He stroked its base with one hand and pulsed up and down the shaft with his tongue.

“Deeper.” Fingon insisted.

Perhaps Maedhros didn’t hear him, or perhaps he ignored the request, but he did not change his pattern of action.

Growing frustrated, frantic for more, Fingon resolved to take the matter into his own hands. He gripped Maedhros’s head by the hair and pulled him down deeper onto his cock, pressing in deeper, further, until at last Maedhros’s mouth hit the base of his shaft. To his pleasure, Maedhros did not gag. He never gagged. Moaning, Fingon held Maedhros’s head in place and began to thrust his hips, in and out, indulging in the warm wetness of his mouth and throat. Maedhros eagerly took care of his end of things, lapping his tongue all the while against Fingon’s cock.

Fingon came with a shout, pulling Maedhros tight against him, dispensing his come within Maedhros’s mouth. Maedhros, now free from Fingon’s grip, leaned backwards and swallowed the load entirely. He raised one arm and wiped the saliva off his mouth. He then smiled again, at Fingon, that knowing, begging smile he knew Fingon couldn’t resist.

“Would you like anything else, my King?” Maedhros asked with a slight smirk, knowing full well that Fingon was far from satisfied.

In Valinor, Fingon was far from ever being ashamed of his desires, but he was rarely are forthcoming with them, never as demanding. Now, however, as King? Maedhros was entirely at his command, entirely eager to please, and he had the freedom to dispense whatever commands and desires came to mind. He intended to take full advantage of this.

“Strip.” Fingon declared.

Maedhros stood and slowly began to undo the buttons of his garments, shedding one layer at a time. To see Maedhros undress himself carefully, sensually was a delight to the eyes in most scenarios, but now, Fingon had not the patience for it. “Faster,” he insisted.

“I’ve only got one hand, Fingon. It’s a bitch trying to undo buttons with one hand. I cannot go faster.”

Fingon sighed. He stood up, placed a hand on Maedhros’s shoulder, and pressed, urging him to return to a kneeling position. From there, he pressed against his chest until Maedhros was lying prone on the ground. Fingon straddled him and began to undo the buttons himself, tearing off Maedhros’s garments as fast as he could.

“Eager, are you?” Maedhros said.

Fingon now blushed. “Shut up, that’s no way to talk to you _King_.”

“Would you like an apology?” Maedhros posed sarcastically.

“Just shut your beautiful mouth already.” Fingon leaned in and stole a deep kiss from Maedhros’s lips.

He moved to Maedhros’s trousers and undid them, then pulled them off, exposing Maedhros’s cock. In spite of the abuse and overuse it suffered in Angband, it remained immaculate, sizeable, and altogether a work of beauty. Fingon craved it. Still soft, he began to stroke it until it rose, hardening under his grasp. Fingon stood and fetched one of the bottles of olive oil from the table, then returned to Maedhros. He removed his own clothing in its entirety. “I intend to ride you,” he informed his lover. “Is that alright with you?”

Maedhros flashed that charming grin again. “You can do anything you want with me.” He stretched slightly, accenting his muscled figure.

 _Fuck_. Fingon said to himself. _Fuck_. Any shred of patience he still held was thrown to the wind, as he quickly began to prep himself with the oil. He then lowered himself over Maedhros’s erect cock, sheathing it with one fluid movement. He moaned as he moved downward on it, closing his eyes. “Now,” he commanded, “fuck me. I know you can do it. Move your hips.”

Maedhros eagerly obliged, moving his hips up and down, establishing a rhythm, and with each thrust eliciting another moan from Fingon.

 _“Eru_. _Oh, fuck, Eru, fuck.”_ Fingon whispered, much to Maedhros’s delight.

Maedhros began to sit up slightly, but with both his hands, Fingon pressed him back down towards the ground. “Don’t you fucking move,” he commanded, “I’m not _done_ with you yet. Don’t stop.”

“When would you like my to come?” Maedhros asked.

Fingon pondered this for a moment. “Now. Come _now_.” He thought for an additional moment. “ _Slut_ ,” he added.

Maedhros stared blankly at him.

“I said now,” Fingon repeated.

“Yes my King.” Maedhros responded. He thrust upward again into Fingon, and came.

Fingon tensed himself around Maedhros’s cock and savored the sensation of being filled. He closed his eyes, smiled, and let out a slow, deep sigh. Following this, he dismounted Maedhros, knelt over him, and deposited a kiss upon his lips. Immediately, Fingon began to redress himself. “Thank you for that. Now, I do have another meeting in this council room in a few minutes. I’m afraid I don’t have more time with you for now.”

“You can find me in my chambers tonight, if you so desire,” Maedhros informed him.

“I plan to be there. Prepare yourself for me, I don’t wish to waste time undressing you again.”

“As you wish.” Maedhros said as he began to reclothe himself.

Unable to help himself, Fingon walked back over to him and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my King.”

“Oh, shut up,” Fingon laughed. “You know you can just call me Fingon.”

Maedhros tilted his head slightly. “Perhaps I enjoy calling you King.”

Fingon thought to himself for a moment. “And perhaps I enjoy being your King,” he added, “if indulgences such as this are benefits of holding the crown.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
